Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
Earlier today I shared a trio of old blogs in tribute to my recently deceased mother - These partly fictional journals, based on fact, a record of the familial matriarch. Anyhow as I've a wealth of this type of reverential maternal insights, I thought I'd share another trinity of previously penned deferential posts. This piece... Continue Reading →
I initiate this revue litteraire perched amongst lunchtime patrons of a shopping centre coffee shop. Adjacent to me in this south Leeds cafe sits a woman who's audibly raucous diatribe about a friend (to other friends) is ranted with almost Hitleresque vigour..... Quite clearly, she won't be as evil as Hitler but after witnessing this... Continue Reading →
Preferring to use established data as a source when making decisions/judgements, I'm a fella who ordinarily embraces scientific reasoning above the spiritual. A mantra which leaves me unsure what to believe regarding what, if anything, the afterlife has in store after we shuffle off this mortal coil. I raise this subject as my uncertainty about... Continue Reading →
Sunday 10th October - It's a week since my siblings and me bode the familial matriarch a tearful farewell. At this time last Sunday after mum's passed I was utterly numb. A time existing in a dazed cloud exacerbated by the previous three days of sleep deprivation while being sustained by sandwiches and stolen slices... Continue Reading →
In an highly emotive and sad week, they were the first tears of joy I'd witnessed for a while. The water welling in my little lab/retriever buddy Coco's eyes those borne from sampling the Guinness Beef Casserole I'd made for her mum Sam and my tea. My canine chum'll admittedly trough anything and, if truth... Continue Reading →
Day four of middle-aged orphanhood following my mother's passing on Sunday. The matriarch leaving this vale of tears to join my father, whose own death preceded his beloved wife of 57 years four winters previously. Of course, becoming an orphan in your fifties is nowhere near as stark as in childhood. That being said, despite... Continue Reading →
Seconds after our mother's final breath the song Cavatina's opening lyrics "She was beautiful. Beautiful to my eyes...." played out on my sister Helen's Chill Music playlist. Although not planned, this coincidence providing a fitting commentary to not only how our newly deceased mother comported herself throughout her life, but also how Maggie conducted her... Continue Reading →
Aside from a sporadic sob emanating from daughter Rachel in the front passenger seat of my car, yesterday's 20 minute journey from my mother's care home to Rach's east Leeds residence was undertaken in near silence. Two hours in the company of our moribund family matriarch, who's now barely able to communicate verbally, appearing to... Continue Reading →
As I begin this chronicle I’ve just returned into my mothers care home room after vacating it while nurses undertook the matriarch's personal care. While standing out in the corridor, adjacent to Maggie’s chamber, Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s emotive hymn Pie Jesu played out from a neighbouring resident’s room. The refrain’s celestial nature, incorporating prayers to a... Continue Reading →